Worst Case Scenario
by Dixie Dewdrop
Summary: Tony faces a nightmare while out jogging, and must rely upon Jethro's prior survival instruction to save himself. This is part of my Fate series, with Tony as a teen.
1. Signed

Signed

Tony wrinkled his nose as he ran, trying to see if he could distinguish the scent of gardenias just yet. His abuela loved the flowers, and waited excitedly for the bushes to bloom each year.

He sniffed dramatically and grinned. Definitely, definitely, an aromatic cape jasmine gardenia bush had to be planted nearby.

"Absolutely," he congratulated himself as he spied it the second he turned onto a perpendicular street, "you, Tony, have managed to discern a complicated aroma using just one of your senses, and have done so while out jogging at that!"

He laughed gleefully, then waved as a group of teen aged girls pulled up alongside him in a convertible, slowing in momentum to mimic his pace.

"Hey, Tony," they chorused, and he raised his eyebrows and blew a kiss towards them.

All of them attended his high school. Two cheered for football, while the others participated in non-sports- extra -curricular activities.

The driver, a doe eyed brunette, called out the window, "Isn't it great that we have three whole days off from school?" She licked her lips.

Nodding in agreement, he slid his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose and responded in his best Elvis voice, "Well, yes it is, Ladies, yes it is!"

A redhead in the back seat leaned forward, "You will be at Shane's party tonight, right, Tony?"

He flashed a brilliant smile and winked, "It wouldn't be a party without me, now would it?"

The girls giggled in response and then waved good bye as they continued a straight course down the avenue.

Tony veered to the left and began the last part of his routine run.

He glanced at his watch and then brought it closer to his eyes to verify the displayed hour and minute hands. He had made exceptional time this morning.

Inhaling a deep breath he thought ahead to what promise the rest of the glorious day held. Permission to attend Shane's party later that evening had already been granted from his dad, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, which meant he could relax and savor anticipating the event. The hard work of securing permission was done. It hadn't been an easy task whatsoever, because Tony's conduct the past month had not fallen into the exemplary category. However, he had begged and pleaded, and had eventually gotten his father to say he could go.

The day radiated beauty, which made his physical exercise so much easier to complete. Spring had just arrived, and the birds and flowers dotted the landscape, trying to outdo each other with their beauty and contributions to the scenery.

Slowing his pace a bit as he neared the park closest to home, Tony shifted his attention to the thick forest bordering the back of the area. A rugged trail wound its way through the trees, covering over a mile of a pine straw and grassy path.

Making a quick decision, he headed that way, trying to get onto the trail quickly. It took just a couple of minutes until he pounded rhythmically over the path, leaving people and civilization behind.

This route allowed a freedom not available within his regular run. Now he could enjoy the absolute solitude that only a scenic forest could provide.

He moderated his breathing, treating himself to deep breaths that enriched his body with the serenity that the outdoors offered.

A twig snapped somewhere behind him and he glanced over his shoulder in surprise. Nothing returned his gaze and he continued his course.

Nevertheless, trepidation began to enter his consciousness, and he thought of his dad, and his dad's reaction if he knew where Tony had chosen to jog. Jethro would not appreciate his route decision.

Jethro had a firm rule that he had better know Tony's whereabouts every hour of the day. Further, he expected his son to be at those whereabouts should he check. Tony had learned the hard way that unpleasant consequences followed if his dad couldn't readily locate him.

In actuality, his dad had no problem with Tony jogging, or the path that he jogged. He knew Tony's route, from street to street.

That satisfied him.

What would not please the man, however, was the fact that Tony had deviated from the route he had assured his father he would take, and further, that Tony had not contacted him to share the change when he actually changed- that crucial piece of information.

The young man shook his head.

He felt his dad let his special agent persona influence his real life parent persona too much and too often.

Despite his bravado, Tony felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe he should double back and complete his usual run as scheduled. Should his dad find out he had disobeyed, he might punish him by restricting him from the night's teen party.

Glancing at the brilliant sun he acknowledged that his father had, first and foremost, a law investigator's perspective.

According to his son, his dad over-reacted, however.

Jethro contradicted that, and maintained that he responded appropriately and within reason, especially with issues impacting Tony's well being.

A sudden whoosh of sound combined with a gust of wind enveloped him from behind. Startled, he glanced over his shoulder to witness a muscular stranger, a large brimmed hat covering his facial features, reach out to grab him.

In the split second before physical contact was made, Tony sensed his danger and frantically accelerated his pace to outrun the man.

He did not succeed.

He was facing the worst case scenario.

The stranger grabbed him in a vise grip and yanked him backwards by the shoulder. It knocked him off balance, and Tony hit the ground hard. The man threw himself on top of the teen, straddled his chest, and yanked cable ties from his front pocket.

It took no time for the young man to accept that he was in dire straights.

Willing himself to think clearly, he took a deep breath and prayed.

His father's voice suddenly flooded his subconcious and he tried to focus on what he had been taught.

Over and over again, from the time he could communicate, his dad had instructed him to fight any attempt at abduction, even if he went down fighting.

With a surge of adrenaline he threw himself sideways, trying to unbalance the man, but the assailant's weight held him securely. Tony dug his heels into the soft foliage and he kicked and struggled, while at the same time punching the man in his face and scratching down the man's neck.

Despite his valiant efforts, the criminal won the physical battle.

The man retaliated by leveling several hits himself, connecting with Tony in vicious blows.

It took him mere seconds to bind the boy's wrists, and he shifted his weight to stuff Tony's mouth with a foul smelling scrap of material.

Still fighting to scramble away, Tony felt himself getting woozy, and realized the rag had been soaked with some type of sedative. Before he succumbed to the seductive smell he grabbed hold of the necklace around his neck, a costume type of jewelry sporting his high school basketball team's emblem. Ripping it off, he flung it away from him before his assailant could react.

In the adrenaline of the fight and the chaos that followed the abductor did not appear to even notice. Still straddling him, he did not turn loose until he felt the boy finally lose consciousness. Breathing heavily, he slowly got up and then, scanning the tree line, whistled loudly. From the opposite side of the trail another man appeared, unmasked and dressed in jeans and a pullover.

"Let's go," he ordered, jogging down the path.

He reached down and grasped Tony by an arm, yanking him, and the other man steadied the boy. Working quickly, they half lifted, half dragged him through the dense growth to the van waiting at the edge of the park.

No one witnessed their exit.


	2. Sealed

Sealed

When Tony began to regain consciousness a couple of hours later his first thought centered on his aching head. Reaching a hand up to massage a temple, he felt a dried trickle of blood outlining his eye.

It took a few more seconds for him to focus his attention enough to actually open his eyes, and when he did so, he realized that he was the sole occupant of the room.

Sitting up gingerly he braced himself against the wall, which turned out to be constructed of stone.

He shuddered when his back touched the cool material, but grimacing, he began to run his hand up and down his body, feeling for injuries.

One eye was almost shut. From the pounding and dried blood he realized his head had been cracked. His left wrist was swollen and felt sprained, and accompanied by a dull throb throughout his right leg. Gingerly examining his leg he saw a bruise spreading from below the knee to midway up his thigh. Someone had kicked him pretty badly.

Tony felt himself getting woozy once again, and realized it would take a couple of more hours to get the drug that had been used to incapacitate him out of his system. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink back into oblivion.

The second time he woke it was to the sound of a door opening.

He groaned.

Every part of him hurt, and he regarded the man coming towards him warily. He couldn't tell if this was the man who came up behind him. There must be another one, one who appeared as the accomplice. Really, it didn't matter. It made no difference who did what- they both had kidnapped him.

His dad would want him to memorize every detail of his surroundings and of the men.

Tony felt a stab of fear that threatened to paralyze him.

Where was his father to come and make all of this better for him- immediately?

He needed him.

Tony wiped his mouth and watched the stranger close the distance between them. No, his father was not here. For that matter, his dad might not even realize Tony was in trouble.

A gush of fear gripped him a moment later when he realized that his dad would not even know where he had been abducted. His father would only think that Tony had taken the path he had told his dad he was taking.

The calvary could not save him.

He had never really pondered the meaning of a worst case scenario, but now he understood his irresponsibility had landed him at the mercy of criminals.

The man came within two feet of him and observed him clinically. "Looks like you're awake now, so let's have a chat."

Ignoring the assessment, Tony did not respond.

The man grinned. "Not very sociable, are you, little Jethro?"

Remaining silent, Tony ran his tongue over his bloodied lip and met the speaker's gaze.

"I know your name's not Jethro," the man continued, narrowing his eyes, "but you are Jethro's kid."

He scrutinized Tony and noted that despite the boy's deliberate show of willpower, a flicker of desolation crossed his face.

The kid definitely loved his father.

"Now, you don't know me, but your father and I have had a couple of conversations."

Tony turned his head to the side and targeted his gaze to the opposite corner of the room. He mentally began to quell the terror overwhelming him. Taking a couple of deep breaths he determined that his best course was to not allow the enemy to see his weaknesses.

He fought back sudden tears as his father and abuela came to mind.

The man took offense that Tony denied him eye contact. He kicked at Tony's hurt leg and despite his best intentions to remain emotionless, the boy flinched.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Boy! I know that dad of yours has drilled some rules of etiquette into your head. You are the child of Leroy Jethro Gibbs, correct?"

Tony obeyed by leveling an appraising stare on the man.

The commentary continued. "Don't worry about confirming that, Kid. We did our homework. You're Jehtro, Junior, without a doubt."

The man pointed towards him.

"You're here because I figured out how to most productively enact revenge on Daddy Dearest."

Emphasizing the last two words, the kidnapper moved leisurely to the wall directly across from the teen and leaned an elbow against it, propping himself.

Trying to lessen his discomfort, Tony started to rub his leg soothingly. He regarded his opponent and began memorizing mental notes of the man's appearance and demeanor. His father had coached him over and over in honing his skills of scrutiny, and Tony realized that this was the time to put those proficiencies into practice.

He quickly imprinted a visual description of the man into his memory: six one or two, a hundred ninety pounds, muscular, brown hair and eyes. Tony scanned his face and noticed the man had a slight scar below his left eye, and a larger scar right under his chin. Further, he had the definite signs of a five o'clock shadow.

His abductor would have passed for good looking, had his face not been so pale and pasty looking.

His age was somewhere between twenty five and thirty.

"I'm sure you've got a bunch of questions for me. I'll be happy to answer them when I feel you're cooperative."

The man stretched leisurely once again, making a show of yawning loudly.

Tony did not bother to answer the invitation. Wiping his dry mouth, he eyed the man warily, instead.

The assailant smirked, "Well, ok then, little buddy. If you don't feel like joining in the chitchat I will excuse myself and go eat. I'm massively hungry. Snatching you made me work up quite the appetite."

With that, he strode to the door and opened it with a flourish, then disappeared behind it as it slammed.

Tony repositioned himself onto his hands and knees, trying to get control of the nausea and dizziness as he slowly worked his way into standing. His head pounded, and he was painfully, horribly thirsty.

Once he gained his footing he rested against the wall for a couple of minutes, as he attempted to quell a rising sense of panic. He could not inhale deeply without pain, and after a quick physical check decided that a couple of ribs had been either bruised or broken.

Navigating the room took all of his strength. It was not a surprise when the sole door refused to budge. The kidnappers probably had it double bolted from the opposite side. He checked every nook and cranny for some means of escape but none appeared. Judging from his examination his prison was the basement of a building, with the only exit the door that his assailant used.

Tony licked his lips and tasted blood. He shrugged. There was nothing he could do to treat his injuries or create bandages or splints.

He desperately wanted a drink of water. His thirst seemed overwhelming.

Gingerly he settled into one of the corners, then slid down until he reclined on the cold stone floor. His head hurt, his ribs hurt, and his whole body throbbed.

Yet again, the creak of the door woke him, and he came to consciousness slowly, using both hands to rub his temples. He groaned, but pulled himself into a sitting position.

The second kidnapper moved to stand in front of him. He held a glass of water which he thrust towards the boy. "Drink!"

Tony watched him suspiciously and weighed his options. His first response was to balk, first because he wanted to show he did not have to obey, and second, because the water could be drugged.

He licked his lips and decided to gamble. He needed hydration.

The water's healing ability seemed almost instantaneous. The young man drained his glass, then shakily set it on the floor.

"Thanks," he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The captor regarded him critically. "I'll be back in a while to take you to the restroom, then to get you something to eat."

He picked up the glass and started towards the door.

"Wait!" Tony begged. "Tell me what this is all about."

The man turned to scrutinize him, then glanced back towards the door. Tony saw his shoulders tighten and recognized that the man was internally debating how to answer.

"What don't you understand?" A sudden play of compassion crossed his face but he quickly replaced it with one of angry demand as he regarded the boy.

Tony motioned a path from wall to wall. "This- why have you taken me? Why am I in this place?"

"It's called payback, Kid. Your daddy messed up my kid, and now I'm messing up his."

He raised his eyebrows.

Tony nodded, "How did he mess up?"

Tensing his jaw, the man elaborated. "Jethro Gibbs got my kid sent to prison for selling drugs to Navy guys. Problem is, he just targeted my boy- nobody else. So he let my son take the fall by saying he was a ringleader. He just got released from eight years of having his life snatched out from under so that he could decay in prison."

The last words really infuriated the man and he raised his voice, practically spitting them out in blasts. "Now shut up asking questions."

With that, he spun to the door and left.

Tony listened to the sound of wood being snapped into a frame and subsequently bolted from the other side as he eased himself into a reclining position. He rested his head on his arm and fell into a troubled sleep.

The next time he awoke it was because he felt a draft of air hit him. Rising groggily, he wiped his mouth as the door to his prison once again opened.

The son had been given the task of escorting Tony to the restroom. "Get up 'cause I'm giving you a chance at the toilet. You try anything, though, you'll regret it." One hand was thrust into a side pocket and grasped what appeared to be a gun.

Nodding his agreement, Tony got to his feet. He squared his shoulders and walked towards the entrance, pausing to let the man pull open the door. Tony kept his expression neutral.

The door led into a short hall with another door at the opposite end. Tony waited again for the man to pull that one open and then motion him to climb a set of unfinished stairs to the ground floor before he continued. Once the next door was accessed they stepped into a kitchen.

Sunlight streaming into the room from a window blinded him a second, and he shook his head to re-establish vision. Once he did, he realized that both kitchen windows were covered by curtains, but one had enough of a crack to let light through. Tony took an appraising look, then followed the man's gesture to veer to the right. That led to a family room with another heavily covered window. Pointing, the abductor directed him from that room to another short hall, and then to a small bathroom opposite the dwelling from the kitchen. Tony stopped at the threshold, waiting for instructions.

"Don't think of doing anything, Junior, or your next chance will involve peeing in your pants downstairs." The man's breath reeked, and Tony surmised the reason seemed to be his tobacco stained teeth.

Grabbing Tony's shoulder, he shoved him into the space and promised, "No privacy, buddy boy, just like in prison. Just do your business, and out we go."

Tattooed across the knuckles of one hand were the letters P-U-N-K, but the K appeared to have been carved with little to no ink.

Glad of the opportunity to get out of the basement jail, Tony took as much time as he dared. When his captor ordered him to hurry for the third time, the teen made his way to the sink. Glancing in the mirror he saw that the café curtains at the window behind him did not completely obstruct his view of the outdoors. Realizing that his observational skills could turn out to save him, he washed his hands slowly, rinsed out his mouth and gargled loudly, then lathered with soap and rinsed his face, all while he kept a check in the mirror.

When he rejoined the kidnapper he spoke softly, "Thanks, Man-"

There was no response, and Tony started back down the hall, reversing the first path.

As they approached the kitchen Tony begged, "Please get me something to eat. I am really hungry."

The captor grabbed him by the arm, "What do you mean that you are hungry?"

"I can't help it," the teen responded defensively.

"All right, whatever," the man grumbled.

Pointing to a chair at the kitchen table he ordered, "Sit!"

Tony chose his seat carefully, making certain that he had the best vantage point in the room.

"What about pizza?" he suggested, raising his eyebrows.

The man yanked open the refrigerator door in reply and examined the contents. "Out of luck, kid. I have no intention of calling for a delivery."

"Ok," Tony responded meekly. He repositioned himself in the chair to ease some of his body's throbbing.

"You like eggs, buddy?" The man's tone softened, and he raised his eyebrows questioningly as he drummed his fingers on top of the open refrigerator door.

"I do," Tony responded, and a sudden rush of emotion overwhelmed him. His abuela had spent many mornings preparing breakfast for him, and her eggs were one of his favorites.

He wanted her.

He wanted his dad.

He wanted to go home.

He shook his head and straightened in the chair. What he needed to do was figure out how to get home.

Gesturing with the egg carton the man ordered, "Just stay put. If you move from that seat I will lock you back up and you'll forfeit all food until your dad gets the ransom paid."

"Got it-"

Satisfied, the captor began pulling out dishes and turned himself to the cooking task.

So the deal is kidnapping, Tony pondered, kidnapping and revenge. He sat lost in thought until a plate was set down in front of him.

It surprised him that he was so ravenous.

He began to eat, grateful for any food.

The eggs were delicious.

Tony smiled, "You're a great chef –on- demand. These are great."

That pleased the kidnapper, and a flash of pride crossed his face. He responded, "Glad you like them." Then almost smiling, he added, "Used to be a short order cook, years ago."

Suddenly his mood changed, "I might have gone on to become one of those five star chefs but your dad had it out for me. He destroyed my future."

Tony tilted his head sympathetically in the man's direction. "Rotten luck, Man, because you were destined for greatness." He bestowed a beautiful grin upon him.

The man smiled, as well. "You had better gobble 'em before they get cold."

Tony did as directed, thinking to himself that he had accomplished a great deal with his refreshment break. His captor now appeared to view him as more of a person than of a victim.

"Did you teach yourself?"

"Kinda sorta, I suppose," the kidnapper kicked at the opposite chair to pull it away from the table then sat down and began to eat, as well. "My mom taught me to read before I ever went to school, reading recipes, at that. She'd have me with her in the kitchen helping."

Tony grinned, "It sounds like your mom was clever."

"She was," agreed the man.

"The man, that's your dad, right?" Tony tried to confirm the relationship.

The answer came in the form of a scowl.

Tony prodded, "She's not here though, right? You live with your dad."

That was obviously a sore point because with that, the man got to his feet so quickly that his chair toppled backwards. He snatched it upright and ordered, "Eat instead of talking. It's time you got back downstairs."

Knowing not to press his luck, Tony dutifully finished to eggs, and ten minutes later was once again locked in the basement.

He felt better, though, not physically, but emotionally. The trip upstairs had awarded him a new perspective of his situation.


	3. Delivered

Delivered

The next interruption occurred hours later when the dad unlocked his prison and motioned towards him. "Get up and come with me."

Tony got to his feet awkwardly, sucking in a breath at the pincers of pain. Dutifully he retraced his steps back upstairs, but this time the man stopped him in the living room and pointed at a hardback chair.

"Sit down!"

He sat gingerly, perching on the edge of the seat.

The son came in from the kitchen then and held out a cordless phone, "Here, Dad. It's charged, so should be good to go."

Tony deliberately made eye contact with him, determined to remind him that they had forged a tentative bond earlier that day.

The older man grabbed the phone with one hand and snatched up a ledger pad with the other. He squinted down at something written on the paper. "Is this the home phone? I don't want to make a call to a government agency."

The younger man leaned closer to confirm, "Yes, I told you it was."

"Ok," the father replied, then narrowing his gaze at Tony, he commanded, "Pay attention, Kid."

Obeying, Tony nodded for him to proceed.

The man lowered himself to rest on the arm of the room's recliner. "This call is to your dad, and it's the second call. I called him earlier when you got here to assure him this was an eye for an eye transaction."

Tony swallowed. Did the man plan to kill him, or just keep him kidnapped?

"Now he's getting an update this time. He started yeh yehing about talking to you until I finally hung up on him. This time you're gonna talk to the old man yourself, and tell him you're fine. Then I'll take back the phone and finalize ransom demands. Got it?"

Tony nodded and his mind raced with the information that his safety had a price attached. He felt himself begin to tear at the possibility of hearing his father's voice. Then he squared his shoulders and straightened his posture, "I've got it."

The younger man crossed the room and pointed to one of the phone's buttons. "That's the speaker phone feature, so just hit it once the call goes through."

The other man regarded Tony with narrowed eyes. "Say one thing out of the way, Kid, and I'll make sure your dad hears your screams when I retaliate."

He didn't wait for acknowledgement, but consulted the ledger pad and began to dial.

The first ring had not silenced when the connection was activated. Tony's emotions were at their zenith the moment his father's voice came through the speaker.

He wanted to go home!

"Agent Gibbs," his kidnapper began, "I've got your kid here."

"Let me hear him then," Gibbs demanded, his voice determined and strong.

The man raised an eyebrow and signalled Tony. "Ok, kid, just remember that I'm in charge here."

Thrusting the phone at Tony he hovered above the phone cradle, evidently ready to disconnect if the conversation did not please him.

Tony felt a rush of emotion at having contact with his father. He wiped at the corner of his eye and grabbed the receiver. "Daddy," he spoke shakily. "Daddy…"

Gibbs interrupted in his you- had- better- pay- attention- to- me- tone, and Tony caught the underlying resolve to stay in control, "Son, you are coming home. I always take care of you, ok?"

His child straightened, cradling the phone to him even though the speaker had been activated, "Yes sir."

Jethro softened. "We'll celebrate when you get home- whatever you want to do."

A flash of insight washed over the child. He knew what his dad wanted from him, what his father needed him to communicate.

"Hurry up!" yelled the older of the kidnappers.

Tony swallowed, "Okay Dad, I want that tattoo I keep asking to get, with Punk, or Parolee or something like that, promise?"

"We'll see, maybe-"

"You promised me you'd let me quit school and go on and get some kind of training, remember? You did say that. I can make money as a cook, or as a waiter, and you won't have to support me. That can be a payback, since we're family."

"No, I won't agree to that." Gibbs hardened his voice.

"Kid needs to get off the phone," the younger captor observed.

He reached out to take the receiver from the teen, but Tony motioned him to wait, then responded to his father with a whine, "You always say that and you always treat me like a baby! I can't visit friends in the country 'cause it's five miles from the Capitol. We can't get a basement rec room 'cause the walls might collapse. No, I don't get to ride the windmill ride at the fair because it's too high!"

Jethro interjected, his voice hard, "Watch what you are doing!"

"Got it, Dad, as usual. You know other boys have their dads take up for them, not destroy their lives. What about that?"

The older man suddenly snatched the phone. "Time's up, Kid. All right, Gibbs, you heard your brat and know he's still smart mouthed and alive. Next time I call it will be for ransom instructions."

Before anyone could respond he disconnected. He eyed Tony appraisingly, then chuckled. "Poetic justice- that's what it is. Straight by the book Agent Gibbs has a disappointment for a son. That little chat warmed my heart."

His own son joined in the laughter, then motioned to Tony, "Let's go, kid."

That evening Tony fell asleep reliving his phone conversation.

He had not slept more than an hour, though, when the door to his prison crashed open in splinters of wood. Tony tried to scramble to a sitting position but before he could move his arm was yanked urgently. A voice demanded, "Quick, we need to hurry!"

Half dragging the boy, the rescuer pulled him out of the room, up the stairs, and out the door. "Run to the car!" screamed the man, and Tony complied, sprinting in the direction the man indicated. Voices and noises assailed him from every direction, and he kept a straight course. Every step he ran jarred his ribs, and he clenched his teeth in determination.

The second he reached the car a deafening explosion lit the sky. Throwing himself against the car Tony caught his breath and turned to see the house in flames behind him. He had missed burning to death by seconds.

The conflagration illuminated the yard and outlying area, and Tony could identify several FBI agents, as well as some from NCIS.

His dad was not amongst them.

Tobias Fornell, an FBI agent and friend of the family, jogged over and grabbed his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

He regarded Tony with concern, and the boy answered in ragged gasps. "I'm good, but where's my dad? NCIS is here."

Fornell quickly reassured him, "He's here, don't worry. He's just not here on duty."

That didn't make sense.

"He is an agent."

"Too true," Fornell grinned, "but your dad wanted to put his hands on your kidnappers as a father, and not as a government employee."

Tony still didn't understand.

Fornell tousled his hair. "Let me put it this way. Jethro wanted to make sure they understood that he did not appreciate the fact that they laid a finger on his child."

Tony understood then.

Fornell continued, "Don't worry. We pulled him off while they were still breathing."

The next few minutes they leaned against the car and watched the fire finish burn the house to the ground.

A group of men rounded the corner of what was left of the house, and Tony saw they flanked both of his kidnappers, who were handcuffed.

He observed them appraisingly. The pair looked a bit worse for wear, and Tony could tell they had endured quite a beatdown at the hands of his father.

He watched them pass without a word.

His stomach churned. Though Agent Fornell was doing his best to comfort Tony, he desperately wanted his father.

Fornell leaned over and rubbed his right eyelid. "Close your eyes a second. I want to see if this is a smudge, or a black eye."

Tony closed his eyes obediently.

Seconds later strong fingers framed either temple, then a calloused palm stroked his cheek.

He recognized that touch at once and reached out and grabbed his father to him, then burst into tears.

Neither spoke, but Gibbs kissed the top of Tony's head and held him protectively against him, arms tightly wrapped around his son's body. Tony clung to him. Nuzzled against his dad's neck, he felt gratitude for the familiar sawdust and coffee scent that cloaked his father, and they stayed that way until Tony's tears slowed.

Finally Gibbs tilted Tony's chin and whispered softly, "Hey, are you ready to go home?"

Tony nodded against him and Gibbs pushed him back gently. "Let's go then."

They began to walk, and Jethro kept an arm across Tony's shoulder to keep the boy against him.

"How did you find me, Dad?"

"My brilliant son led me right here. You gave enough information for us to identify your abductors and to find the place."

"It's what you taught me to do. I tried to talk fast to get it all communicated, Dad."

Gibbs tightened his arm over his son's shoulders. "Time to go home, Son."

A sudden whoosh of light nearly blinded him and Tony shook his head to clear it. Voices surrounding him became increasingly louder and he tried to make sense of the change in circumstance.

"Slowly, young fellow," an older man ordered. "Don't try to get up too fast."

Tony obeyed, pulling himself into a sitting position with ragged breaths. He looked around and found he was surrounded by an assortment of people, all watching him intently.

"What happened?"

"You got knocked out," a woman in the crowd supplied. Like Tony, she was dressed in jogging clothes.

"Knocked out how?" Tony rubbed the back of his head.

A uniformed man leaned down and then helped Tony get to his feet. "I'm Brent Maxwell, one of the park guides. There was a black bear sighting on the jogging trail early this morning, and you hit the trail while I was still trying to nail up the warning sign. You went so fast that I had to race to catch up to you, and when I did, you took off like you'd been scalded. You ran smack into a low branch from one of the oaks, and it knocked you out. I got you off the trail, and then these others helped move you to a better place. How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts," Tony admitted, "but thanks for looking out for me."

"Not a problem, but you need to have that checked, just in case. By the way, this medallion belongs to you."

He offered Tony the sports emblem the teen had thrown at the beginning of the confrontation.

"I'm ok," the teen assured him, fingering the jewelery. "I'll just skip the rest of my run and go home and take it easy for a couple of hours."

The woman brushed back his bangs worriedly. "The officer is going to take you home."

The ranger nodded, "Right, I need to turn you over to a parent."

Tony groaned.

"Is no one home?" asked the woman.

Tony began brushing off his clothes. He grinned lopsidedly. "Someone's home. It's cool, but I just realized that my dad will know I was jogging somewhere I did not have permission to run. That's going to be the kiss of doom for my plans to go out tonight."

He rubbed his head softly and gave a lopsided grin. "It's a pity, too, 'cause the scene that I dreamed while I was out of it ended a whole lot better for me!"

His audience laughed.


End file.
